The Bed Dilemma — In or Out?
I was doing so well — for more than a year. From the moment of Toto’s arrival, I had successfully kept him out of my bed! Each night as I settled in between the sheets, he would climb into his comfy doggy cushion on the floor below. There was rarely an issue of Toto getting into his bed and staying there. The only challenging times arrived with the occasional thunderstorm. During the storms, I would snuggle up next to him on the floor until the high winds and thunder subsided. Despite the discomfort of lying on the floor, I had made a decision from the start that I was not going to allow Toto into my bed. That is until I had a weak moment — one night.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon at home after church, and I was feeling domestically charged. Sheets, towels, and clothing were on the laundry agenda as an infusion of freshness filled the house. Toto was also fluffy and squeaky clean after an evening shower. His eyes and baby-fresh scent screamed “cuddle” as I held him in my arms to say good night. That’s when the inexplicable moment arrived. Instead of placing him in his own bed I decided to have him join me in mine. As he snuggled in closer to my body, our breathing even became in sync as we dozed off.
The next night Toto must have assumed that my momentary lapse the evening before had now become our new routine. As I crawled into bed, Toto’s head popped up — and up and up. His tiny six-pound body used every ounce of his energy as he attempted to rejoin me in my territory. With every head pop I couldn’t help but smile at his determination. I thought to myself, “Well, it is a king-size bed with nary a king in sight. So what would be the harm?” Without another thought, I scooped him up and placed him on the blanket next to me for what I had hoped would be another good night’s sleep.
That was a week ago, and as I write, my body drapes over the keyboard in exhaustion. Our new arrangement is just not working — at least not for me. There’s a little too much movement and activity in my bed that I’m just not accustomed to. And then there’s the fear of rolling over and crushing Toto’s fragile frame. Now I toss and turn all night and feel like a zombie when I get up. Somehow I have unknowingly and voluntarily added to my menopause exhaustion.
So now I have a new challenge — to get Toto back in his own bed. Is there anyone out there who can help me?
Current compromise: Toto has claimed my special neck pillow -- his body
fits perfectly in the hole in the middle of it!
And our yellow brick road journey continues ...
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